2::A Walk De Neuve ville
by physixXx
Summary: PART TWO OF ADVISED & AFFLICTED MINISERIES! Harry discusses his relationship woes with various friends! This episode Neville Longbottom.


**Part two of the 'Advised & Afflicted' series.**

"Neville? Is that you?"

On a park bench in _Speaker's Corner_ on the north-east section of _Hyde Park_, almost within arm's reach of the _Marble Arch_, Neville Longbottom sat with one leg crossed over the other, eating a sandwich. Wire-rimmed spectacles adorned his face, still slightly round with baby fat that apparently he will never outgrow. His clothes seemed tailor-made and his poise belied the timid boy Harry Potter once knew at Hogwarts.

"Neville! It _is_ you!" Harry exclaimed, quickening his pace.

Neville's face lit when they met with Harry's and smile stretched across his lips. His dewy-eyed expression was every bit as potent as when he was a child. But this Neville was no longer a child; there was something about him that Harry found unrecognisable, even if it were pleasurable.

"Harry?" Neville asked as he set the book down and stood with his arms outstretched.

They embraced like brothers, laughing as if they were finally made privy to the punch line of a grand, cosmic put-on. Separating, Harry held firmly to his friend's shoulders and looked him up and down, sizing him up.

"You look great, man!"

Harry could have sworn he saw pink pepper his rounded cheeks. Finally, he let go and stood, still surveying Neville with nothing short of reverence. Neville was, after all, a part of his life when things were simpler.

Yes, simpler. Madmen trying to murder you and your friends were far easier managed than what he had on his plate nowadays, namely one Draco Malfoy.

"So do you," Neville replied, never quite looking Harry in his eyes.

"Man, it's been an age! Mind if I join you for a bit?"

"Actually, I do have to make my way back to work. Care to walk with?" Neville asked, returning to the bench to collect his book and sandwich.

"I'd love to," Harry answered.

They walked along a paved trail that led deep into the centre of Hyde Park passing university students as they played touch rugby, played _Rounders_ or tossed a frisbee back and forth. Occasionally, Harry – or Neville – would have to sidestep an oncoming cyclist or skateboarder. Harry found the bustle of the park to be far more innerving than he originally thought it would. But Neville seemed to enjoy it.

As they continued along the path, they came to a Cornish-granite fountain. Neville stopped to survey the magnificence of it; water flowed along concrete ridges from the highest point in two directions as it cascaded, swirled and bubbled before meeting in a calm pool at the bottom. He stood, composed and relaxed as if hypnotised by it.

"Sometimes I forget that tragedy hits even the Muggles, sometimes," Neville said, in a voice so low Harry had to lean in to hear him.

Neville's head nodded towards an immaculate plaque titivating the nearby shrubbery that read: _Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fountain._

Abruptly, Neville toed off his shoes before bending over to roll up the legs of his trousers.

"Shall we?" he asked with an impish grin.

Harry didn't quite understand the sudden change in demeanour. He stared bewilderedly as Neville walked to the outer rim of the fountain, pulled off his socks, and stuck his feet in the water. Sitting along the stoned edge, Neville turned to face Harry.

"Sit," he said with a mock grimace etched on his face and patting the spot next to him.

Harry couldn't stop smiling; this Neville was far more relaxed than he remembered. The boy he knew wouldn't have done something so brash or bold. If he weren't so excited about the prospect of getting reacquainted, Harry would have been angst-ridden over how much he didn't know about this 'new' Neville. That's when he realised this 'boy' was not a 'boy' at all, but a man.

Harry shrugged as he walked to the rim of the fountain. Before sitting, he took off his shoes and socks, pulled up the legs of his jeans, and jumped into the water, making sure to get Neville as wet as possible in the process.

"Hey!" Neville exclaimed with a laugh, pulling back.

Harry giggled as he sat next to him.

"Ahh, refreshing, isn't it?" Neville asked after a brief silence.

Harry looked at Neville and with a smile answered, "Yes. Quite refreshing, indeed."

Neville smiled back, blushing more than earlier, as if he understood Harry's double-meaning.

The silence that followed was pregnant with questions brewing in Harry's mind. 'What did you do after The War?' 'Who are you seeing?' 'Would you care for a bit of a frig?' Instead, he settled for a far-more chaste question.

"Oh, I've been meaning... congrats on getting the job at The Apothecary."

"Oh, right. Yeah," Neville blundered, "Ta."

"I must say, I'm surprised you'd take the job considering who works there," Harry said, turning a grim eye towards the clear water at their feet.

Neville began kicking his feet, swirling and splashing water.

"Well, I have Hermione to thank, really," Neville admitted. "In my field, knowing someone brilliant is almost as good as being brilliant yourself."

A moment of the real Neville – or, at least, the Neville that Harry remembered – reared its ugly head: self-deprecating, unsure, and irresolute.

"Hermione got me the job, really," Neville continued. "If it weren't for her, Snape would have never taken me on as an apprentice, especially considering my dismal Potions' scores."

After all these years, the very utterance of Snape's name sent pangs of anger coursing through ever fibre of Harry's being like electricity through a copper wire. As if detecting his oncoming bad mood, Neville bumped shoulders with Harry.

"Don't scowl, Harry," he said, smiling when Harry turned to face him. "He really isn't all that bad, you know?"

"Oh, no longer scared of Severus, then?" Harry asked in mock indignation.

"Pish! I'm terrified, still," he answered, with a shiver. "But he's taught me so much. Utterly and completely brilliant, that man."

Those last words trailed off Neville's lips like an afterthought. But, Harry knew this to be true; Snape _was_ a brilliant man. Remus told Harry that during their first year at Hogwarts, Snape had helped him pass his year-end Potions' exams. This was before he had to choose his allegiance, with Harry's father and Sirius on one side and Snape on the other. Even during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, the Potions book that belonged to the greasy git taught Harry more about Potions than all five years of previous schooling in the subject combined.

"So, what's new in your life, Harry?" Neville asked, bringing Harry out of his contemplations. "Still with Malfoy, I gather?"

Harry's posture slumped at the mentioning of Draco's name. His luncheon with Oliver Wood earlier was helpful, to a point. Oliver was in a similar boat: a Gryffindor dating a Slytherin rival from the school days. His advice came from experience. Nevertheless, it was far easier to toss out advice than it was to actually take and Harry was still unsure as to how to handle his relationship.

"Harry? Is… everything ok between you two?"

"I don't think so," Harry answered. After a beat, he qualified the answer, "No. No we're not."

"What... what's going on?" Neville asked, cautiously. He remembered the Harry-Rage™ of old, how it could rise up and bite someone's head off; Neville didn't plan on being the one to prod the sleeping bear with a stick.

Harry took a deep breath.

"He's been so... distant, lately. He won't go out with me, anymore. Anywhere."

"Where do you try and take him?" Neville asked with more confidence.

"Just... out. You know? Nightclubs, restaurants, theatres, plays."

Neville arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Just the two of you?"

"Yeah," Harry said. His brow knitted slightly before he continued, "Well, most of the time... ok, some of the time. Usually we're with friends."

"Okay, 'friends' or '_your_ friends'?"

"What?"

Harry's posture stiffened and Neville could tell that he was getting defensive, but there was no subtle way out of this subject matter.

"Well, do you ever go out with Malfoy's friends?"

"Draco doesn't _have_ friends, Neville," Harry answered, as if he were speaking some universal truth.

"Oh, bother, Harry. What a load of rubbish," Neville said, with almost a sneer in his voice. "Of course he has friends."

"Who?" Harry said, sure to have stumped him.

"Pansy. Blaise. Crabbe. Goyle. Well, Goyle's dead, but still. Plus, he had made peace with Theodore Nott and had been hanging around Flint, as well."

"Waitaminute," Harry said, turning to face Neville. "He's been traipsing about with Flint?"

Neville shrugged, glibly.

"Well, I've seen him having tea on two or three occasions. With Flint and Oliver— "

Harry tensed at the mentioning of Oliver's name.

"Flint _and_ Oliver?"

"Harry what's the big deal? That's what friends do."

"He's not friends with Oliver."

"No, but he's friends with Oliver's boyfriend. Merlin, Harry – is this how you handle Draco and _your_ friends? Because I must say this 'relationship' of yours seems awfully one-sided."

Harry was surprised at how snide the word 'relationship' sounded falling from Neville's lips; it was as though he were using it as a weapon.

"I haven't the slightest notion—"

"Remember Ron's birthday party a couple years back," Neville interrupted, "the one we celebrated at _The Leaky Cauldron?_"

"Yeah, what of it?"

Neville sighed before continuing, "All I remember from that night was Ron and Seamus slagging him off... Hell, if I recall, you would join in on occasion."

"Oh, it was all in fun—"

"Really? Was it? Was it fun when everyone thought you were the Heir of Slytherin? Was it fun when Cedric's friends created the 'Potter Stinks' badges? Was it fun when people thought you were crazy when you said You-Know-Who had returned?"

"You know, he is dead, Neville. You can call him by his name," Harry sneered.

"Don't change the subject. We're not talking about me. We're talking about you and Malfoy."

Harry snorted, "Besides, that was different."

"Of course, it's different... for you. But for Draco it might be the same thing. I talked to him for hours on the balcony the night of Ron's birthday," Neville continued as if he never stopped.

"Oh, really? Since when did you start liking Draco, then?" Harry asked, channelling as much of Draco's drawling articulation as he could.

"I don't. No, I _didn't_," Neville corrected, "But no one else was talking to him. Not Hermione. Not Ron. Not Seamus or Dean or the twins. Not even _you_. I can't even imagine what that's like. No, wait. I _can_ imagine what it's like to be ignored. And let me tell you, Harry Potter, it's far from fun!"

Even without looking at him, Harry could feel the anger and pent-up frustration emanate from Neville.

"And now I find out that, apparently, you never go out with him and his friends or even try and include him when you two are with _your_ friends."

Harry was still in shock that Neville was taking sides with Draco Malfoy.

"Why are you defending him? After all his done—"

"We're not at Hogwarts anymore, Harry!" Neville barked in exasperation.

"I'm not defined now by what house I am in – was in – any more than you are... or he is," Neville admonished. He placed a soft hand on Harry's shoulder.

"We're not children anymore."

The silence that followed seemed to last an age as the two childhood friends stared off into the calm waters beneath their feet. With a start, Neville began to stand, stepping out of the fountain and reaching for his shoes and socks. Harry didn't follow; he simply continued to gaze at the water, watching as the ripples caused by Neville's departure diminished to nothingness. It was almost poetically apropos. Neville sat on the edge of the outer rim again, pausing before putting on his discarded articles.

Without looking at Harry, he said, "I didn't understand it when you started dating him, anymore than I understood why Oliver dated Marcus. Hell, I _still_ don't understand _those_ two."

Harry snorted at this.

"You seemed happier for it. But being together isn't about Harry's happiness, it's about Harry _and_ Draco's happiness. And that means getting to know his friends, letting him bring you to his life."

"His life was never—"

"Dammit, Harry. The war is over!"

Harry jumped at the sound of Neville's voice, stronger and more authoritative than he had ever heard it before, even when he stood his ground against Harry, Ron, and Hermione during their first year.

"He's not the enemy. He's not going to drag you off to face the Death Eaters or make you swear allegiance to the Dark Mark. You've been shagging him for years now, Harry. It's time you stop thinking of him as 'the enemy' and start thinking of him as your lover... or there's no hope for you at all."

"... 'you' as in 'me' or 'you' meaning 'me and him'...?"

"Take your pick, Harry."

Harry couldn't bring himself to look at Neville for fear of the expression that would be drawn on his face.

"Harry, I looked up to you at school. And I know you think it was because I was some awestruck kid who only saw you as the Boy-Who-Lived. And, honestly, that was part of it. But as the years went by, I saw that you were strong and brave and kind and loyal... almost to a fault. You had friends who would rally by your side, no matter the odds. You had compatriots who would fight a war with you, who would gladly die by your side if necessary."

Harry's eyes began to sting; his breath caught in his throat.

"If there ever was a time to be a Gryffindor, Harry, now's the time. If you're going to be with Draco, then _be_ with Draco. Forget what Ron thinks, forget Hermione's concern, forget the taunts of Fred and George and be with the man you fought tooth-and-nails to be with."

Neville picked up his book, resting next to Harry.

"I have to go back to work, now," Neville said, half expecting Harry to stand and give him a hug or a handshake goodbye.

Harry did none of these things. He simply stared off into the fountain, occasionally swinging his feet to kick water about.

"I really hope things work out for you two," Neville added, placing a kindly hand on Harry's shoulder.

He made to walk away when he felt Harry grab his hand. He stopped and waited, but Harry neither spoke nor look up. He simply squeezed Neville's hand firmly before letting go.

Neville smiled. Harry had done so much for Neville by giving him confidence in himself and making him feel loved almost like a brother. Oh, and there was that whole pesky "saving the world from the Dark Lord" thing. Neville could only hope that he had returned the favour, even if just a little.

•fin•


End file.
